It was a little before nine o’clock on the following morning when Jenny called Come-in! to a knock on her door. She was seated at her dressing-table, while Martha Pinhoe set the final pins in her smooth braids, and it was in the looking-glass that she met her errant husband’s guilty but laughing eyes. Her own twinkled in spite of herself, but she said severely, as she turned in her chair to face him: “Well! A pretty way to use me, my lord!”
“I know, I know!” he said penitently, coming across the room to kiss her. “But even if I’d remembered what the date was, which I own I didn’t, I couldn’t have come! Have you heard the news?”
She put up a hand to clasp his shoulder for a moment. “I should think everyone in the house has heard it by now. When did you arrive?”
“Just before three. I drove into the yard so that I shouldn’t rouse you all. My dear, I do beg your pardon! Infamous of me to have abandoned you! Did you desire Lambert to take my place?”
“He wasn’t here,” she replied. “Or Charlotte, or your mama!”
“Oh, good God!” he exclaimed, aghast. “You don’t mean to say that Charlotte is confined already?”
“That’s just what I do mean to say. And not a word of warning to me — not that I blame her for that, because she was in the very act of stepping into the carriage when she felt her pains begin. Lambert sent over one of the grooms directly, of course, but there we all were, sitting in the Long Drawing-room, and expecting every minute to see the Membury Place party walk in. And the end of it was poor Lydia hadn’t one member of her own family at her engagement party!”
“Except you!”
That’s different. Well, it was a sad disappointment to her, but she behaved beautifully — except for saying, right in front of everyone, that it would have been worse if Charlotte had had the baby in the middle of the party! Did you ever? We must send over to find out how Charlotte does. Why did Papa wish you to go to town, Adam?”
He glanced over his shoulder, to be sure that Martha had left the room. “He wanted me to sell my Consols. There was something of a panic in the City, you see. He and Wimmering were in the deuce of a pucker!”
Her eyes searched his face. “I’d a notion it might be that. I’ll be bound you didn’t sell, however, not feeling as you did!”
“No.” He laughed suddenly. “Though I didn’t feel very confident on Tuesday! Jenny, I have such a piece of news for you! It was as much as I could do not to wake you up when I came in, to tell you! I bought stock, and I think we shall find ourselves richer by twenty thousand, or near it! Now am I forgiven?”
“Good gracious!” she ejaculated. “Oh, my goodness, no wonder I thought you looked as if you was in high croak!” They were interrupted by an impetuous footstep on the corridor, and by the entrance of Lydia, hard upon a perfunctory knock. “May I come in? Oh, so my dear brother is here, is he? How delightful! And how very obliging of you to have come in time to say goodbye to your guests, dearest Lynton!”
“Now, I won’t have him scolded!” interposed Jenny. “Didn’t I tell you he wouldn’t have failed if he hadn’t had good reason to? Well, he’s been making his fortune on ’Change, love!”
“Making his fortune? Adam, you’re cutting a wheedle!”
“I’m not, but don’t cry it from the housetops! And where did you learn that excessively vulgar expression?”
“From Brough,” she replied, making a face at him. “Well, I’m very glad, even though I can’t help detesting you! Oh, Adam, it was the shabbiest party! You can have no notion! I don’t mean that the Adversanes are not the greatest dears, but to have only them, and the Rockhills — ! And to make it worse Julia behaved in the most odious manner!”
“She had the headache, love.”
“Having the headache is no excuse for saying you have a premonition of disaster at a betrothal-party!” retorted Lydia. “Particularly when she must have known Brough’s brother was engaged in the war, and the Adversanes dreadfully anxious, though they never spoke of it! And for my part I don’t believe she had the headache at all! People who have the headache don’t sit down at the pianoforte and play dreary tunes.”
“It does seem to have been a dismal party!” said Adam. “Indeed, I’m very sorry, but do you think my presence would have enlivened it? And I wasn’t responsible for the absence of the others!”
“No, but — Oh, well, I dare say it doesn’t signify, and at all events Brough and I laughed ourselves into stitches over it! Jenny, shall you object to it if I go away with Lady Adversane? The thing is that Lord Adversane and Brough mean to post up to London immediately, to see if they can come by any news of Vernon at the Horse Guards, but they don’t care to leave poor Lady Adversane alone at such a time, so of course I asked her if I might go with her to bear her company, and she said she would be very glad to have me, but only if you could spare me — which I told her I knew you would.”
“Yes, to be sure I will,” Jenny answered, getting up. “Is Lady Adversane down already? Adam, we must go downstairs at once! Oh, dear, as if it wasn’t bad enough that you weren’t here yesterday without me not being in the breakfast-parlour before the visitors!”
“Well, she isn’t down yet,” said Lydia. “She soon will be, however, because she was very nearly dressed when I went to her room. And Julia is having tea and toast in bed, which I’m heartily glad of. The gentlemen are in the parlour, but they are reading the newspapers Adam brought from London, so you needn’t trouble your head about them. I’ll go and tell Anna to pack up my clothes.”
She hurried away. Jenny, snatching up the handkerchief kid out on the dressing-table, and thrusting it into her reticule, said: “Well, I only hope her ladyship don’t think this the most ramshackle house she ever was in! We’ve to breakfast early because she was wishful to be at home by noon, you know. Where are my keys? Oh, never mind! For goodness’ sake, my lord, go down to the parlour!”
The gentlemen were still eagerly reading the London journals when Adam joined them. He made his apologies, but was assured he had no need to make them. “My dear Lynton, it would have been rather too much to have expected you to leave London before the result of this battle was published!” Adversane said. “We are very much obliged to you for having posted down to bring us the news so quickly. A great victory, is it not?” He smiled understandingly, and added: “You have been wishing yourself with the Regiment. We have searched for mention of it in the despatch, but the Duke merely commends Major-General Adam, amongst the other generals. You knew that the 52nd was a part of his Brigade, of course?”
“Yes, sir, I knew that, but very little more, I’m afraid. We were certainly not engaged on the 16th or the 17th. What part we played, or any of Clinton’s Division, at Waterloo I can’t discover — though I have a feeling that Hill’s Corps was not in the thick of the fighting. The centre was held by the 1st Corps, the Prince of Orange’s: I don’t think there can be any doubt of that.”
“Enlighten our ignorance!” Rockhill said. “Mine, I blush to confess, is profound. Why is there no doubt?”
“Well, didn’t you notice that the names that are mentioned in the despatch all belong to the 1st Corps? I don’t mean, the list of commendations, but in the Duke’s account of the action? And I can’t but think it significant that amongst the list of generals who were killed or wounded there’s not one from Hill’s Corps. Old Picton killed; Orange, Cooke, Alten, Halkett all wounded! That tells its own tale: they were standing the shock, not Hill’s people.”
Lord Adversane began to look rather more hopeful. The ladies came in, and in the general exchange of greetings, and comment on the news, Brough seized the opportunity to draw Adam a little aside, and to say, in his lazy way: “Very soothing, dear boy: I’m obliged to you. Did you mean it?”
“Yes, I promise you I did.”
“Pretty heavy, our losses, ain’t they? Ever known so many generals to be hit? Looks bad to me.”
“Of course it’s bad! Douro calls our losses immense, and if he uses such language as that — ” Adam broke off. “Well, we shall see when the lists are published!”
Brough nodded. “Just so! All well with you, Dev?”
“More than well. I’ve been repairing my fortune: I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Chawleigh nudge you on to a sure thing?”
“No, far otherwise! I flew in the face of his advice, and nicked the nick!”
“You don’t mean it? Well done, dear boy!” Brough gripped his arm for an instant above the elbow, giving it an eloquent squeeze. “Couldn’t be better pleased if I’d made my own fortune! Used to count you the unluckiest fellow of my acquaintance, Dev, but I’ve been thinking lately that you ain’t.”
“Good God, I never was! They used to say of me that I’d as many lucky escapes as Harry Smith!”
“Shouldn’t be at all surprised: I’ve seen one of ’em myself,” Brough said cryptically. He continued, almost without a check: “No objection to Lydia’s going off with m’mother, have you? Mama doesn’t show it, but she’s devilish anxious, you know.”
“Of course I’ve no objection, you gudgeon!”
“Taken a great fancy to Lydia,” said Brough, his eyes turning towards that damsel involuntarily. “Won’t get a fit of blue devils if she has her with her — no one could! Made a hit with m’father too: he told me last night she was as sound as a roast! Myself, I think he’s a shocking old flirt.”
There could be no doubt that the Adversanes approved of Brough’s engagement. Adam thought that Lydia, never a comfort to the Dowager, was already a comfort to her mother-in-law, and would soon become more a Beamish than a Deveril. Once, her overriding ambition had been to restore the fortunes of the Deverils: he recognized, a little ruefully, that she was more concerned today with the fate of her future brother-in-law than with her own brother’s affairs, As though she had read his thought, Jenny said, later, when she stood beside him, waving farewell to Lydia: “Well, one can’t help but feel moped, and that’s a fact, as Papa would say! but she’s going to be as happy as a grig. What’s more, we won’t lose her, as we might have done if she’d got herself riveted to someone you weren’t acquainted with, and maybe wouldn’t have liked above half. How comfortable it will be! Not that we don’t go on very well with Charlotte and Lambert, but — Oh, my goodness! Charlotte! If I hadn’t forgotten all about it! Well, what a topsy-turvy day this is, to be sure! I must — ” She stopped, for they had walked back into the house together, and she saw that Julia was coming down the stairs. She said immediately, in her most prosaic voice: “Good-morning, Julia! I do hope you slept well? You are just too late to say goodbye to Lady Adversane and Lydia, but they left all kinds of messages for you. Brough and his father set out for London half-an-hour ago, to try if they can learn any more news of the battle, you know.”
Julia, standing with one hand on the baluster-rail, lifted the other to her brow. “The battle — the battle — the battle! No one can talk of anything else!”
“Well, it’s natural the Adversanes should be anxious,” Jenny said. “Adam, do you take Julia into the Green Saloon! I must scribble a note for Twitcham to carry to Membury Place.”
She went away, as she spoke, walking down the vaulted corridor with a brisk step. In strong contrast, Julia came slowly down into the hall, seeming almost to float over the stairs.
Adam stood, looking up at her, struck, as he always was, by her exquisite beauty and the grace of her every movement.
Her eyes were fixed on his face; she said: “You should not have returned so soon. I’m still here, you see. But I shall soon be gone.”
He moved towards her, saying: “I’m very glad that you are still here. I hoped you might be, so that I could beg your pardon. An infamous host, am I not? I promise you, I’m very conscious of it, and don’t at all think I deserve to be forgiven, for I can tell you won’t accept the battle as an excuse!”
“Did you think I should? I know you too well! You didn’t wish me to come to Fontley, did you? You should have told me so.”
“My dear Julia — ! No, no, you are quite mistaken!”
“Ah, don’t talk like that!” she said impulsively. “Not to me! Not to me, Adam!”
He was considerably taken aback. The throbbing note in Julia’s voice indicated, even to his inexperienced ears, that she was dangerously wrought up. He remembered having been told by Lady Oversley that her sensibility made her subject to hysterical fits, and he devoutly hoped that one of these was not imminent. With a lively dread of being precipitated into a dramatic scene in the most public place in the house, he said: “Come into the saloon! We can’t talk here.”
She shrugged, but allowed him to shepherd her into the saloon. He shut the door, and said: “Now, what is it, Julia? You can’t suppose that I fled from Fontley because you were coming to visit us!”
“You can’t bear to see me here! You once told me so — ”
“Surely not!” he expostulated.
“You said it was painful: is it still so painful? Why did you allow Jenny to invite me? How could I know — ”
“Julia, for God’s sake — ! You’re talking nonsense, my dear — indeed, you are! I left Fontley because Mr Chawleigh sent me a most urgent message, and for no other reason. I had thought to be back again in good time for Lydia’s party, but circumstances intervened which made it impossible. It was very bad of me — and I am deep in disgrace with Lydia! Poor girl! she was set on having all of us at her party, and in the end not one of us was present!”
“Lydia! She was not mortified by your absence! No one thought you had stayed away because she was here! I would not have believed that you would offer me such a slight! You might have written to me — one line only, telling me not to come, and I should have understood, and made an excuse to remain in town! But to go away as you did — You might as well have declared to everyone that you preferred not to meet me! Lady Adversane is not so stupid that she didn’t guess. She was delighted, I daresay! They don’t like me, either of them. They made that plain enough! And Brough has always detested me! Nothing could have been more marked than their attentions to Lydia, and their incivility to me. Jenny and I were left quite out in the cold, until Rockhill took pity on Jenny, and talked insipidities to her. There was nothing for me to do but to occupy myself at the pianoforte, which I was able to do without fear of interrupting conversation, since no one paid the least heed.”
He had listened to her first in astonishment, and then in amusement, as it dawned on him that the real cause of her tantrum was not his defection but the attentions paid to Lydia. He did not for a moment suppose that the Adversanes had been uncivil, or even that Julia was jealous of Lydia. If she had been made much of, she would almost certainly have insisted that Lydia, celebrating her betrothal, must be first in consequence. She never tried to shine down her friends; Adam knew how prettily she would coax a shy girl out of her shell, and he guessed that had she found a vacant throne awaiting her at Fontley she would have handed Lydia on to it with enchanting grace. The trouble had been that she had found Lydia already established on the throne. She had not stepped down from it; nobody had considered that she had any right to it. It was unlikely, too, that she had been accorded the admiration which she quite unconsciously expected; Brough had never been one of her court, and the Adversanes were naturally far more interested in their future daughter-in-law than in Rockhill’s wife. She had obviously spent a miserable evening, feeling herself neglected, and was now in a mood to pick out any grievance that offered, and to magnify it into a tragedy.
Adam had never before seen her in a pet, or imagined that she could behave like a spoiled child. He was not in the least angry with her, but he did think that she was being silly and tiresome. He wondered whether she often indulged in dramatic tantrums, and found himself feeling sorry for Rockhill.
“I shall never come to Fontley again,” Julia said.
“Yes, you will,” he replied, smiling at her. “You’ll come to Lydia’s wedding, in September, and see what a good host I can be!”
“I never thought that you would wound me — and laugh!” she said, turning her face away, her mouth trembling.
He was conscious, not of a burning desire to fold her in his arms and kiss away her melancholy, but of irritation. “Oh, Julia, not at this hour!” he begged. He took her hand, and raised it to his lips, as she stared at him in amazement. “My dear, I beg your pardon, but you are being quite absurd! You know very well I didn’t run away because I didn’t wish to meet you!”
“Ah, no! Not that, but because it’s painful to be reminded of the past, and the hopes we cherished! Was it that, Adam?”
“No, Julia, it was not that,” he replied firmly. “I wasn’t even thinking of you — in fact, I entirely forgot Lydia’s party!”
“Forgot?” she repeated, drawing her hand away, and almost shrinking from him. “How could you do so? It’s not possible!”
“I found it very possible. I was engaged on an affair of so much more importance that it drove everything else out of my head. Shocking, wasn’t it? But I think you will understand, when I tell you that I had Fontley in my mind. You have always loved it, so you must be glad to know that I’ve managed to turn my small principal into quite a respectable fortune — large enough, at all events, to enable me to bring Fontley back to what it once was — oh, better than ever it was, I hope!”
“Oh, no, no, don’t spoil it!” she cried.
“Spoil it?” he said, thunderstruck.
“You said once that I should find everything the same, but it’s not the same! Don’t make it smart, and new! Don’t let Jenny do so!”
He regarded her with a queer little smile. “I see. When you talk of Fontley, you think of the ruins, and the portrait of my stupid Cavalier ancestor, don’t you? But that’s not what I think of. The Priory is only a part of Fontley, you know, and not the most important part, either.”
“What then?” she demanded, bewildered.
“My acres, of course.”
“Oh, how much you have changed!” she exclaimed bitterly. “You had nobler ambitions once!”
“Well, it was certainly my ambition to command the Regiment one day,” he admitted, “but I don’t think I was ever as romantic as you believed me to be. Perhaps we never had time to learn to know each other very well, Julia.”
She did not answer. Footsteps were approaching, and a moment later the door opened, and Jenny came in, a letter in her hand. She said cheerfully: “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but one of Lambert’s servants has this instant ridden over, and you’ll want to know the news, Adam. Charlotte was safely delivered at eight o’clock this morning, and it’s a boy! Isn’t that capital? Hell be able to play with Giles! Lambert says — ” She stopped, meeting Adam’s eyes, which were brimful of laughter, gave a gasp, and said unsteadily: “Now, Adam, for goodness’ sake — !” She saw that Julia was looking blankly from her to Adam, and said apologetically: “I beg pardon! It’s just a silly joke — not worth repeating! Charlotte is feeling perfectly stout, and the baby is to be christened Charles Lambert Stephen Bardolph!”
“What?” Adam exclaimed. “Jenny, you made that up!”
She chuckled, handing him the letter. “See if I did!”
“Good God!” he uttered, scanning the missive. “And why not Adam as well? Pretty shabby of them to leave me out, don’t you think? I shan’t send a christening-gift. Did you ever hear such a collection of names, Julia?”
“I suppose they will call him Charles,” she replied. “Pray tell Charlotte how happy I am to hear that she has a son, and how sorry I was not to have seen her! I must run away now, and put on my hat, or Rockhill will give me a scold.”
She smiled brightly upon them both, and went swiftly out of the room. At the head of the staircase she met Rockhill, just about to come down. He smiled at her, saying softly: “What, my lovely one?”
Her face puckered, she clung to him suddenly, saying in a choked, passionate voice: “Take me away, Rock! I wish we hadn’t come! It’s dull and detestable! Please take me away!”
“With the greatest pleasure on earth, my Sylph! I was coming in search of you to suggest that very thing. What a bore that we pledged ourselves to go on to stay with the Rossetts! I shan’t have you to myself for as long as five minutes: you will be swept from me, and wholly surrounded by tiresome admirers.”
She gave a tiny laugh. “Oh, no! How can you, Rock?”
He turned up her face, and kissed her. “Beautiful baggage!” he remarked. “Go and put your hat on, my love!”
He sauntered on down the stairs, and was talking to his host and hostess when Julia presently joined him. She was looking quite ravishing, and had recovered her spirits sufficiently to be able to kiss Jenny, thanking her for an enjoyable visit, before turning to offer her hand to Adam, rallying him, with rather glittering drollery, on his haycocks, and adjuring him not to bury poor Jenny alive in the fens.
He answered in kind, escorting her out to where the chaise stood waiting. Standing just within the hall, Rockhill retained Jenny’s hand for a minute, saying softly: “A delightful visit, ma’am! I am so much in your debt! Pray believe that you may command my services at any time!”
“I’m afraid it was dreadfully dull and flat,” she replied.
“Dear Lady Lynton, I assure you it couldn’t have been better! Do you know, I fancy we have nothing more to worry us? Goodbye — and a thousand thanks!”
He kissed her hand, and was gone before she was put to the necessity of replying. She went out into the porch to see the chaise drive off, and as soon as it had passed out of sight Adam turned, and came to join her, saying: “Thank God we have the house to ourselves again!”
Her eyes twinkled. “Well, you didn’t see so very much of the visitors!”
“Very true. Poor Jenny, was it quite abominable? I think it must have been.”
“Oh, well! It might have been worse,” she said philosophically. “Brough took your place, and Lord and Lady Adversane are so kind and easy, you know, that they made it seem as if your not being at home was quite commonplace. Which I’ll take good care it don’t become!”
He laughed. “No, no, I swear I will never do so again! Come into the library! I want to tell you how I made my fortune!”
“Adam, did you say it was twenty thousand?”
“More or less, I think, if Consols recover to the extent Drummond believes they must. I staked everything I had, and still don’t know how I found the courage to do it. What a crazy gamble!”
“I don’t see that it was that,” she objected. “You always knew we should beat Bonaparte!”
He said wryly: “I wasn’t so pot-sure when I’d committed myself. Wimmering wanted me to sell as much as your father did.”
She listened in silence to the account of his three days in London, and at the end said slowly: “You will be able to do all the things you want to, then.”
“Well, hardly that! Not immediately. But I can do enough to set Fontley on its feet, and once that’s accomplished I don’t fear for the future.” He smiled at her. “Who knows? By the time Giles comes of age we may be as rich as Mr Coke! By the bye, your father is going to settle the mortgages on Giles.”
“You don’t mean to redeem them?” she said, surprised.
“No. He doesn’t wish it, and — Oh, I don’t know how it comes about, but I found, when I might have done it, that I didn’t want to!”
“I’m glad. He wouldn’t have liked it.”
“No, I know he wouldn’t. I mean to try instead if I can’t persuade him to invest some of his wealth in my cut — only, if I can bring him round my finger we’ll make it a canal. You know, Jenny, that’s what’s needed in this district, not only for drainage, but for transport. I’m pretty sure it would pay handsome dividends. Do you think he might be interested?”
“Well, there’s no saying, but I should think he might. He likes engineering and water-works. But — when you wouldn’t let him help you to the farm you want — !”
“This is different. That would have been a gift, and I have accepted too many from him; this will be a business partnership,” He looked at her, his brows a little raised, a question in his eyes. “You don’t like it, Jenny?”
“Oh, yes! Of course I do!” she said, colouring.
“But you don’t. Why are you looking so grave? What troubles you?”
“I’m not troubled. I’m glad, if you are!”
“I am!”
“If it’s not too late!” she blurted out.
He was puzzled for a moment; then he said: “No. It’s not too late.”
She smiled waveringly. “It’s like you to say that. But if this had happened last year ...”
“I should have married Julia? I doubt it. I suppose I might have contrived to compound with the creditors, but I hardly think Oversley would have consented to such a poor match for Julia. He told me once that he didn’t think we were well-suited. In fact, we should have been very ill-suited. She would have discovered me to be a dead bore, poor girl, and I am much better off with my Jenny.”
She blushed fierily. “Oh, no — you don’t mean that! I do try to make you comfortable, but I’m not beautiful or accomplished, like she is!”
“No, but on the other hand you don’t enact me Cheltenham tragedies when I’ve barely swallowed my breakfast!” he said. He took her face between his hands, turning it up, and looking down at her for a moment before he kissed her. “I do love you, Jenny,” he said gently. “Very much indeed — and I couldn’t do without you. You are a part of my life. Julia was never that — only a boy’s impractical dream!”
A little pang smote her; she wanted to askhim: “Do you love me as much as you loved her?” She was too inarticulate to be able to utter, the words; and, in a minute, knew that it would be foolish to do so. Searching his eyes, she saw warmth in them, and tenderness, but not the ardent flame that had once kindled them when he had looked at Julia. She hid her face in his shoulder, thinking that she too had had an impractical dream. But she had always known that she was too commonplace and matter-of-fact to inspire him with the passionate adoration he had felt for Julia. Probably Adam would always carry Julia in some corner of his heart She had been tiresome today, putting him out of love with her, but Jenny did not think that this revulsion would last. Julia stood for his youth, and the high hopes he had cherished, and although he might no longer yearn to possess her she would remain nostalgically dear to him while life endured.
Yet, after all, Jenny thought that she had been granted more than she had hoped for when she had married him. He did love her: differently, but perhaps more enduringly; and he had grown to depend on her. She thought that they would have many years of quiet content: never reaching the heights, but living together in comfort and deepening friendship. Well, you can’t have it both ways, she thought, and I couldn’t live in alt all the time, so I daresay I’m better off as things are.
She felt his hand lightly stroking her hair, and lifted her head. He was looking gravely at her, aware that she was troubled, yet not wholly understanding the cause. She gave him a hug, smiling reassuringly at him. She thought, and was comforted, that though she was not the wife of his dreams it was with her, not with Julia, that he shared life’s little, foolish jokes. Her eyes narrowed, twinkling, as she disclosed the latest of these to him.
“I wouldn’t tell you till we were alone, but your mama writes that it is exactly as she foretold!”
The hint of anxiety in his face disappeared. Amusement took its place; he exclaimed appreciatively: “Charlotte’s child favours Lambert!”
She nodded, chuckling. “Yes, and she says the poor little thing is positively gross, and quite undistinguished, besides having, already, a — a decided air of self-consequence!”
He gave a shout of laughter; and the pain in her heart was eased. After all, life was not made up of moments of exaltation, but of quite ordinary, everyday things. The vision of the shining, inaccessible peaks vanished; Jenny remembered two pieces of domestic news, and told Adam about them. They were not very romantic, but they were really much more important than grand passions or blighted loves: Giles Jonathan had cut his first tooth, and Adam’s best cow had given birth to a fine heifer-calf.